Misato smiled for the first ti since I’d found her in the hallway. Small and tired, but genuine.
"You know what the funny thing is?" She picked at the hem of her skirt, fingers moving in small, restless circles. "Blair’s right to be scared of you. You’re not the sa person who showed up three weeks ago." Her li green eyes found mine again, and there was sothing raw in them. Respect, maybe. Or exhaustion. "That guy was desperate and weak and trying not to die. This guy..." The gesture she made encompassed all of , from my significantly less fat face to the shoulders that actually filled out my uniform now. "This guy is soone I can believe in."
My brain didn’t authorize the movent. One second I was standing there processing the fact that Misato Aya had just given sothing dangerously close to a complint, and the next my hands were pulling her up out of the chair. The hug happened before my higher reasoning could veto it.
Misato went completely still. Not tense, not pulling away. Just frozen, like her entire nervous system had blue-screened at the sudden input of non-hostile physical contact. Her body was warm against mine, surprisingly small for soone who carried herself like she could break concrete with her forehead. Which she probably could.
I half-expected her to knee in the ribs and walk out. Physical affection wasn’t in our squad contract, and Misato seed like the type to cite regulations before allowing hugs.
But then sothing shifted. Her shoulders sagged, and she lted into like she’d been holding herself together with pure stubbornness for weeks. Which, knowing Misato, was probably accurate.
Holy hell, she felt good. I’d been so focused on her intimidation factor that I’d sohow missed the fact that our squad captain was built like a masterpiece. All lean muscle and soft curves in exactly the right places. Her head barely reached my shoulder, and the contrast between her usual commanding presence and this vulnerable mont made my chest do weird things.
Also, when had I gotten tall enough for misato’s head to reach my shoulder? The Divine Milking System really had been working overti on the physical improvents.
Misato’s breathing hitched against my collarbone, and I felt sothing warm and wet seep through my shirt. Tears. Actual tears from the woman who’d threatened to murder us for federal cris this morning and sohow made it sound reasonable.
"She works for them too," Misato whispered, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "My mom. She cleans their offices. Their houses. Has for eight years."
My blood turned to ice water. The Davenports didn’t just own Misato through academy funding. They owned her entire family. Her mom’s job, their inco, everything that kept them above the poverty line that Misato had clawed her way up from.
"If Blair tells her father I’m unreliable..." Misato’s voice cracked. "If they decide I’m not worth the investnt anymore..."
She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. I could fill in the blanks myself. The Davenports would cut them both loose without a second thought. Misato would get expelled, her mom would get fired, and they’d be back in whatever slum neighborhood they’d escaped from.
Except now they’d be there with the knowledge of what they’d lost. The taste of a better life that got snatched away because Misato had chosen loyalty over survival.
My arms pulled tighter around her on instinct.
"They won’t touch your mom." The words ca out rougher than I ant them. "Blair’s desperate, sure. But she’s not dumb enough to burn the one person standing between her and complete humiliation."
Misato leaned back just enough to et my eyes. Her li green irises looked raw. The crying had stripped away that predator edge she usually carried. For once she looked exactly like what she was: a nineteen-year-old girl who’d been carrying way too much weight for way too long.
"You don’t get how these people operate," she said quietly. "They don’t need reasons. They just need to feel inconvenienced. That’s enough to ruin soone."
Maybe she had a point. Wealthy assholes played by different rules. They could afford to waste lives on a whim. But wealth also ant understanding value. And Misato was worth more than Blair’s bruised ego. Way more. She just didn’t see it yet because she’d spent too long thinking of herself as hired muscle instead of the one thing keeping this entire operation from imploding.
The problem wasn’t Misato’s competence. The problem was making Blair realize that before she did sothing catastrophically stupid.
"Then we make sure Blair needs you more than she wants to punish you." I kept my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. "We win so decisively that losing you becos impossible for her."
Misato’s laugh ca out shaky. "You make it sound simple."
"It is simple." I brushed a tear off her cheek with my thumb, surprised by how soft her skin felt. "We’re already first in Obsidian. We just need to stay there until winter evaluations. Six weeks of not screwing up catastrophically."
"Six weeks of Blair trying everything she can think of to destroy us."
"Let her try." The confidence in my voice surprised even . "She’s running scared, and scared people make mistakes. We just need to be better than her mistakes."
Misato studied my face like she was trying to morize it. Her breathing had steadied, but she hadn’t moved out of my arms yet. The proximity was doing interesting things to my pulse that I probably shouldn’t be thinking about while consoling my traumatized squad captain.
But damn, she slled good. Sothing clean and sharp that reminded of ocean air after a storm. And the way she fit against suggested the universe had a sense of humor about optimal body ratios.
"You really think we can beat her?" Misato asked.
"I think we already have." I grinned at her, channeling every ounce of cocky confidence the System had given . "Blair’s bringing Diamond-tier reinforcents because a lottery winner and his misfit squad embarrassed her. That’s not the action of soone who’s winning."
User Comments
0 comments from readers